


Lost Time

by En2theWormhole



Series: Crystals [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Blind Kanan Jarrus, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love, Married in space, Original Character(s), Reminiscing, SpaceMarried, Star Wars rebels - Freeform, kanera - Freeform, love in the time of the rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/En2theWormhole/pseuds/En2theWormhole
Summary: Hera remembers when Kanan and her went off the grid for a year after they started working together before taking on the rest of the crew.





	1. Lost Time Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a drabble of a teaser.

There are times when Hera would just watch Kanan.

Back when they first got together, it was out of curiosity. Trying to delve into his past without asking but by analyzing his movements. Trying to figure out when he consciously or unconsciously felt the Force. She didn’t really understand—and probably never would—what it meant to be a Jedi, to be a Force-sensitive being in the galaxy. But from the moment she first saw him on Gorse, something about him had caught her eye, and maybe it was because of the Force. Maybe it was something else. But she would watch him when they first ran missions together. Everything seemed to come easily to him. Even if he wasn’t good at it, but even if he had never done something before, they always managed to end up on top. Something would happen, and he would move blindingly fast suddenly.

It wasn’t always on missions either. It was when Chopper would cause havoc on the ship. Or if Kanan was about to topple over all the mugs in the kitchen. There would never be a crash. It was in the way he always knew the right amount of caf to make, and just how to make it.

There had been a time when he was all she looked at. The way his little ponytail would bounce when he moved. Or the way he would puff out his cheeks when he was flying her ship wrong and she need to take over. Or the way his eyes sparkled when he was about to do something reckless. And everything else stopped mattering for a period of time. There hadn’t been any missions from Fulcrum, and they had been so far out in the Outer Rim that it had been easy to forget the Empire for a while. She stared at him because despite his roguish outer shell, he was a softie. He treated everything and everyone he met with kindness even if he tried to hide it by remaining silent or distant.

And it didn’t escape her notice when he gradually reduced his drinking habits. His eyes had always been on her too, and eventually they never left her for anything else. Not the darkness of nightmares or the bottom of a glass in a bar.

Now, she is a part of the rebellion and couldn’t believe she let herself lose sight of the bigger picture back then. But it had been so easy to stop looking at the bigger picture and just at Kanan when they ran off to the Outer Rim together. On a distant planet, they walked around the bazaar of a small village hand in hand. Hera had noticed that Kanan’s cheeks were blushed and that had been the first time he avoided her eyes as if he was afraid she would make some comment about him taking her hand. It wasn’t the first time he had ever taken her hand, but there was something different in the way he had taken it then. After all the flirting and overt confessions that he would follow her anywhere, she had thought about saying something, but then something in her chest snagged when he glanced her way again. Words failed her.

A lot had happened since the last mission. Chopper had forced Kanan’s hand at revealing his heritage when he presented his lightsaber to Hera. Kanan had been hung-over, sipping caf, when she had told him the Ghost was his home and he didn’t need to be afraid. She had wanted to show him that he could trust her; she didn’t expect him to cry. It had jolted something inside of her. Like she finally understood what it meant to have been running from place to place since the fall of the Jedi. That Kanan didn’t call anyplace a home since his was destroyed.

Then one day, he did finally tell her about his time as a padawan. She had thought she was ready. It was just information, wasn’t it? By learning his past, she would really see his potential, right? That’s what she had thought. Instead, she heard the story of a boy who watched people he loved die. A boy who never went back to his home, and could feel the deaths of everyone he ever knew in the Force. It had been he story of a boy who survived on the streets until a smuggler took him in. The story of a boy who was hunted, who changed his name, who he was, and everything he thought he was going to be. Hera had told Kanan of her past with her father fighting in the Clone Wars, and how the death of her mother had changed them all.

So they had ended up drinking nectar from the world’s finest flowers and sitting on a hilltop overlooking village and the surrounding jungle of blooming pink, blue, and purple trees. She had never seen such a colorful planet. And as the sun slipped beyond the horizon, the jungle bloomed in twinkling bioluminescence around them.

It was beautiful, but her eyes were on the human man beside her.

And his eyes were aligned with hers.

Her skin tingled with anticipation when he finding bridged the gap between them and kissed her lovingly for the first time. His cowboy exterior shattered for a moment. She could see him as a knight of her childhood dreams.

That wasn’t the reason Hera didn’t like remembering when her and Kanan went off the grid for also a year. She still had little memories stashed away from that time. Charms they had made in the jungle, and scraps of flimsy wishes the locals had given them. There were even some holograms and recordings of that time hidden in her quarters. Though part of her wanted to fish them out and look at the man she kissed, she couldn't. Because now he couldn’t share those memories with her. Eyes that had never left her before, no longer could see her.

In the early months, she used to follow him when would walk around base on his own, when he finally had the confidence to. She never told him and would never. But she watched him lose his way, clench his fists in frustration, and try again. Even when he pulled away her and from everyone, she always had an eye out for him. Because that’s what you do when you love someone.

And now instead of his eyes meeting hers, she’s become attuned to the way he cocks his head as he listens for her. The way he stands angled toward her. How gentle his fingers are when he reaches for her. It’s different, but he’s still watching her, just as she’s still watching him.


	2. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, Hera and Kanan almost left the rebellion. Based off the prompt first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: implied oc loss

Kanan was asleep beside her. He had trouble sleeping since he had lost his sight. It didn’t seem to matter how much time had passed or how he had adjusted. He no longer slept twenty hours like he had in the first few months, when the depression and grief were at their worst But unless they were exhausted from some mission, Kanan wouldn’t get tired when the sun went down or the lights went out.

She played with his freshly cleaned hair; he was turned toward her, scarred eyes closed. At least the nightmares had mostly subsided again. He was still fully dressed, probably because he had been hoping to return to his quarters before the Ezra or Zeb could ask questions. Her heart ached. Sabine was back with her family, and Hera was happy for her, but she wished she had been there to say goodbye. She had had a feeling that something like this would happen, but still.

Kanan radiated heat. He was always slightly warmer than she was. When they were on Atla, they used to bicker over blankets because she would be sweating, sleeping next to him, and throw off the blanket in the middle of the night. He would pull her closer in his sleep, shivering, and when she wasn’t warmer, he’d wake up. Then he grabbed the blanket and the cycle continued. Hera giggled at the memory and brushed some fallen hair out of his face.

She also used to wake up before him and tangle his hair because human hair was funny like that. And she had never gotten to touch and play with any being’s hair before Kanan. She tried to braid one morning while he was dead asleep—Kanan was a heavy sleeper—and ended up tangling it in such terrible knots that they had to cut it out. Chopper had wanted to be the one cutting it. That would have been disastrous. Especially because back then Chopper had been out to get Kanan for taking up all of Hera’s attention. Kanan’s face when he had seen what a mess she had made of his hair had been priceless. She knew that he couldn't get mad at her, but she also hadn’t known he was that sensitive about his hair. Also apparently human hair is a lot more sensitive than her lekku. If she pulled her lekku it was uncomfortable but it didn’t hurt like apparently pulling human hair did. She laughed quietly again remembering how big Kanan’s teal eyes had been when he tried to untangle his hair to no avail while Chopper pulled it.

Carefully shifting herself on the bunk, she reached down to the drawers beneath the bunk and explored with her hand until she found the old data pad with those holo-photos. She didn’t really understand why she was in the mood to look at them. Not since way before Malachor, and ever since, she felt guilty knowing she couldn’t share them with Kanan like she had used to. Her heart ached again as she looked at him, and for a moment the barrier his blindness presented overwhelmed her. It was like, she would be forced to remember the past in all its vividness while it faded for him with everything else—No. She knew better than that. Kanan would never forget what happened. 

Stealing herself, she activated the data pad and the ache in chest melted as the image of the hilltop overlooking the village with Kanan appeared. His expression was annoyed because she had gotten hold of the recorder again. Mouth pressed into a thin line, arms crossed, but eyes twinkling in the holograph. His hair was in a messy bun high on his head to hide the chunk they had cut out. So stupid.

When they had gone down to the bazaar that night, a few of the locals they had gotten to know had asked why his hair was so different. Atlans were a colorful humanoid species with pastel colored skin tones and silver eyes and silvery hair. The fashion there was to have intricate braided mohawks, and they suggested Kanan partake in their traditional hairstyle since his was all over the place. Of course no matter how much Hera begged—she would have loved a holograph—Kanan refused. But they had taken to wearing the pale colored tones and lightweight clothes the Atlans were wearing in order to blend in. There were other species there trading for jewelry in the village too, but they wanted to blend in more than stand out as much as they could. 

She swiped to the next holograph, which was of the festival of souls. The villagers got together at an old temple deep in the jungle collecting this type of white nut that fell from the trees. When you set the nut on fire, it immediately sparked into a thousand tiny seeds that would glow with bioluminescent at night. Kanan hadn’t let go over her hand even when he lit his own and watched the thousands of sparkling seeds drift into the sky and elsewhere into the jungle. The holograph was of both of them watching the seeds, taken by a local who had given them a wish of happiness on flimsy—a sign that people thought you should get married. Her cheeks heated at the memory. They hadn’t known that when they accepted all of those wishes, and it wasn’t considered rude to deny them. But they hadn’t known that. They also hadn’t known that the festival of souls marked new life and fresh starts. Maybe that had been why it was so easy to forget the rebellion and everything she had worked so hard for.

Kanan shifted in his sleep. His eyes shifted beneath his eyelids while he dreamed. Seeing things he would never see again in the real world. 

She snuggled closer taking in the fresh clean smell of him. A clean Kanan meant a happy Hera. Humans had some pretty interesting body odor. She remembered when he first moved into the Ghost. After years on the run and working in a mine full of gross men, Kanan’s hygiene habits had been less than satisfactory. No crew of hers was going to smell like he did. So that changed. 

That had been one of the things that had changed since Malachor. Kanan seemed much more aware of how he smelled and cleaned more often—once he finally started moving again after he had worked with Zaluna. Zeb and Chopper rapped on him for becoming scruffy with his beard, but Hera knew better than all of them that Kanan’s beard was kept meticulously soft and clean. 

Kanan had smelled like summer when he leaned in to kiss her on Atla, while they sat in a drunken haze on the hilltop. Something that was similar and yet distinct from everything around them. Hera didn’t understand the Force. She didn’t know what it felt like to be connected to everything around you. But in that moment, she thought she could smell how he was connected all things. Similar and yet distinct. And when he leaned in, the tingling on her skin in anticipation of the action about to take place—that. That must be what it feels like to know something good and special is going to happen before it happens. 

She touched her lips, giving herself over to the memory.

It hadn’t been the first time they kissed. Kanan had taken her to a few parties and things had gotten out of hand. But that was the first time a kiss had meant anything between them. She didn’t have a holograph of that moment. But she had the memory of him as he looked at her garbed in a light gray robe. Teal eyes glittering in the bioluminescence of the night. She had seen the Jedi he would have been. 

The night wasn't the night she suddenly came to realize she loved him. She had already known that. Something inside her had known that for a long time, and maybe that had been some Will of the Force mystery too. The way he played with the kids in the village, or went out of his way to give the dirty street kids food when they were on missions. His kindness, and his desire to laugh and live. Even when he was quiet and contemplative. 

But it was the first night she felt it in every fiber of her being that she loved him. Like in the storybooks her mother had read to her when she was a little girl. Love that hits you like a hurricane and destroys all the plans that you had made. No matter how bad the memories on Atla ended, they will always be colored and filtered through the love she finally acknowledged. More than that because she also realized that with every action and with every look, he had been giving himself to her.

Hera didn’t like remembering also not because of how vulnerable she realized she was by having such an attachment. Kanan would sacrifice himself for her without a thought. For any of them. Because that’s who he was. And because she was who she was, she wouldn’t let his sacrifice or his death—Force forbid it—destroy her. Such attachments made them stronger, not weaker, no matter how badly they hurt when severed. That’s what her mother taught her. 

That kiss on the hilltop didn’t stop there. And it had been the first time that her and Kanan made love. There was a period of lost time afterwards. They became locals. She shopped in the market and Kanan worked for a mechanic, though he really wasn’t good at it. She helped fix ships at the spaceport. They drank the nectar of summer, then the beer of fall, and then the hot wine of winter. The written wishes became more frequent and even after they realized that they could deny them, they didn’t. 

Tears formed in her eyes and it was that moment that Kanan shifted awake. 

“Hera?”

Swallowing, she blinked them back. “Hey, how’s your nap?” Damn the crack in her voice. 

His hand came up to cup her face, his fingers finding the wetness in the corner of her eye. “Why are you crying?”

“Remembering silly things.”

Kanan’s eyes slipped open revealing their glossy irises. It made her heart ache more and she glanced at the data pad, which still illustrated the picture of them at the festival of souls. Time had flown by. 

“What things?” His hand moved over his shoulder to her waist to pull her closer. Then his fingers brushed the data pad. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at holographs from Atla,” she confessed. 

“Oh, Hera.” He fingered the data pad and, unbeknownst to him, his fingers corrupted the image slightly.

“Do you remember how it looked? How beautiful it was?” she asked despite herself and smiled. Because, really, it was a precious memory. Her voice was dreamy and thoughtful. 

He smiled gently. That was something else Hera hadn’t been prepared for when he lost his sight: he stopped smiling as often. It was now very rare that Kanan smiled and when he did, it was never as broad or overt as it used to be. She never asked and wondered if it was because he was still mourning, or because he couldn’t see the facial expressions of people around him. Like when he smiled, it felt like he was sending out dead letters because he couldn't see the returning smile. She drank in the sight of that smile now and snuggled his cheek, smiling against his skin so he could feel her own smile in return. 

“A lot of visual details have faded.” He waved his hand vaguely in the air and that precious smile disappeared.

“Oh.” She didn’t want it to be awkward. She didn't want him not to talk about what he experienced. Kanan didn’t really talk about what it was like for him. He was quiet. He held it inside. 

“But there are some things that don’t fade,” he continued softly. “Even if I can’t quite remember the colors correctly, I remember the smells, the feeling, and the taste of that nectar. And I remember you, every moment. Always.”

She was quiet for a moment while she processed what he was saying. “I guess I just refreshed my memory with the holograph.” She looked at the holograph again. At their blissful faces staring at the seeds floating in the sky.

Kanan’s hand waved through the holograph. “I’m jealous.” She was about to apologize and turn the holograph off, when his smile returned. “I almost had convinced you to leave the rebellion and the cause behind.” The smile and his expression turned sly. “I am so good.”

She nudged his shoulder playfully and rolled her eyes. “I’m rolling my eyes, Kanan.”

That just made his smile more satisfied and she couldn’t even be mad. His fingers probed the data pad, searching and locating the off switch. Then he rolled on top of her. Her heart fluttered.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying again, what do you think?” His face was so smug when he leaned in, nose searching for her nose and, when he found it; he brushed it gently before kissing her. “I can’t look at the holograph, but I’m pretty sure the holograph didn’t capture what really happened.”  
She smiled against his lips and he smiled wider. “Yeah, but it did show your silly bun on top your head to hide the chunk of hair we cut off.”

He pulled back slightly. Cheeks red. “And whose fault is that?”

Laughing, she pulled his face close to her and rested her forehead against his. Atla was the past. Malachor was the past. They were here and they were alive. Kanan’s hands brushed over her stomach. They hadn’t been exactly safe and responsible when they were on Atla. She pretty much pinned Kanan anywhere she felt like it. He would scoop her up and... Her cheeks heated at the thought. 

"Are you blushing?" Kanan asked nuzzling her face with his. "General Hera doesn't blush." 

Playfully, she nudged his shoulder, which made him grin quickly before composing his face again. Her heart ached. As if sensing that, he leaned down and rested his head against her chest listening to the drum of her heart, quickened slightly as it always has done when he was close like this. The likelihood of a pregnancy, though not impossible, was low between species. And when it happened, it had been a short-lived miracle… They had known the survival rate was low, but still it hurt when that dream of a different life was ended so abruptly. So they returned to the rebellion, to the cause, built a new family. Atla was a lost time, and yet it was still present because, had things been different, Hera would have wanted to make sure the future for them all would have a been a free one. And she would make sure that her family now shared in that free future. 

"Hera?" Kanan asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong? Your breathing changed."

"Just remembering," she said vaguely and he abruptly felt her cheeks. Startled, she asked. "What are you doing?"

"Just checking that what you were remembering was happy," he said and then kissed those cheeks. "No tears."

She pushed back and rolled on top of him, her lekku encircling his face. His hands ran over her shoulders, her neck, her cheeks, her lekku, and back. When she had done this the first time, his teal eyes looked into her own eyes. The eyes of a fallen knight. Those eyes were now scarred and closed, but his head was titled toward her as he listened to her. His fingers were kind and patient as they rested on her shoulders. Then those gentle hands pulled her closer to him and he turned his head to listen to her heart. He sighed with contentment as he pressed her body against his own warm body. 

"Yes. It was a gift. There are no tears." She kissed his clean untangled hair.

They would be all right. They had each other after all. And even if there came a time when they were apart, they would be all right for having known one another. 

Her smile turned mischievous. This time, though it wasn’t the very first time, and, hopefully, wouldn’t be the last time, was, in fact, the first time since Malachor. And Hera made sure Kanan smiled in earnest from ear to ear like the big dork he was when they were together. And Hera smiled right back, and made sure he knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are loved


End file.
